In the following days after opening the clinic, Valens found himself in a monotonous rhythm of healing patients and trying to spread his image amongst them. He made a point of coming across as shady, noisy, and a touch crooked in the mind to fit the image of a Healer hiding from the Church in plain sight.

Garran, Dain, and even Mas took turns acting as guardians inside the clinic while Captain Edric demanded daily reports from Valens. Those generally consisted of the names of particularly suspicious people who belonged to the gangs, and a list of people under the influence—Lenora’s term for people whose souls were shrouded—was given to the Church.

The number was easily around hundreds, which was the sole reason why the Bishop decided to keep a close eye on those people rather than arresting each one of them. Valens agreed with him. There was, after all, nothing wrong with these people other than the fact that some interesting trick hid their souls, and unlike Jack who got delivered a book from a mysterious woman, the memories of these people were as normal as normal got in the poor ring of Belgrave.

Still, the fact that the clinic had changed the lives of Belgrave’s poor was enough of a justification for Valens for all the work he was doing here. The number of women and children needing immediate care was alarming, most suffering from contagious diseases that thrived in the narrow confines of their houses.

In a few days, the penicillin would be ready to work as a more permanent solution than visiting a clinic, and while the medication was a rather interesting matter in the Church, Valens felt confident he could make it a staple of the Blessed Father’s eternal grace.

Every day after work, he spent a few hours in the company office. Not only did newspapers arrive at their doorstep, but he also had access to classified files that Percival brought from the Cathedral, allowing him to familiarize himself with Belgrave and the Church.

As he’d learned, the new King, His Majesty Edmund, was seen as a visionary in Melton and praised especially by the companies that had the chance to expand their operations under his rule.

There were still voices raised against the changes he brought, though. The other day, Valens read a certain headline written by Edwin Trask, a journalist from Belgrave News, which mentioned that Melton was becoming too Caligian under Majesty Edmund’s rule, losing its traditions and virtues to the insidious claws of technology. The companies, once established to serve the public, were now filling their own pockets at the cost of the well-being of their employees.

It didn’t go as far as to accuse Majesty Edmund of being a Caligian spy planted and supported just for this purpose, but the rather specific details on the man’s past—like the fact that he had studied in one of the famous Caligian Academies for business before returning back to the motherland—suggested otherwise.

Valens was more interested in how he managed to take possession of the throne, though. Thankfully, in these times he had a bored Percival’s company to tap in.

“Melton endured the sheer stupidity of figureheads for more than a century,” Percival started when asked about this recent change in rule. “Even after the Caligian Reveal, the Church managed to hold onto its power by planting its own men on the throne—men who, on paper, had no relation with the Church itself.”

“Caligian Reveal? You mean the time when the Caligi Kingdom decided to disclose the information on those Gates?” Valens asked.

“Indeed. That started a new age. We created another world that is different than our own,” Percival said. “For before that, the only way to venture into the Broken Lands was to get a grant from the Church or have a Trial that flung you straight into the Dead Lands. It wasn’t like today where you can just pay a fee to use a gate.”

“Then Baht came,” Valens muttered. “Just when the Caligians served on a silver tray the information on those gates.”

“He certainly played a part in that change, but as I’ve said, the Church managed to keep its hold in the following decades,” Percival said. “It controlled all the gates, forbade the practice of using them without permits, but the Gates weren’t their only concern. No, with the use of manastones becoming more common, the countries shed the primal ways in favor of modern technology. Most importantly, information itself became widely available. People got access to all the dealings of the Church, and the corruption of certain individuals.”

“How were you dealing with the Rifts before that?” Valens asked.

“There weren’t many Rifts in the past,” Percival answered. “And what few of them were there, the Templars were more than enough to handle them. That is why some historians and conspiracy theorists think that the Caligi Kingdom played a part in their recent upsurge. I myself agree with them. It can’t be a coincidence that right after they made the information public, we saw an abnormal increase in the number of Rifts popping out in the countryside.”

“Interesting,” Valens mused.

“It is,” Percival nodded. “But not as interesting as King Edmund’s rise to power, or rather, the things that he did after he managed to win the throne. There are odd coincidences involved with his rise, but I won’t bore you with them. Just know that he came out of nowhere and carried out a silent revelation while making it clear he is against everything the Church represented in the state.”

“Oh? He is a heretic?” Valens was taken aback. After seeing the company agent, Richards, he had begun to suspect that not everyone in Melton might be as religious as he’d thought, but he didn’t expect the King to be a heretic as well.

“Not quite,” Percival shook his head. “But it’s fair to say that he isn’t a firm believer, either. He respects and even speaks highly of the traditional side of the Church, but insists that religion should be a personal matter rather than being involved in matters concerning the state. That’s why even as a King, he is giving more and more power to the parliament when he could instead rule the country as he wished.”

I certainly agree with him. A visionary, indeed—at least in this matter.

“And the Church stays silent to these things?” Valens found that hard to believe. “They’re just going to let him slowly remove their influence?”

“Times are changing, Valens,” Percival said. He didn’t look upset that the Church was losing control. “Guilds are cleaning up the Rifts, setting up operations in the Broken Lands. Bright minds find themselves in good company and are freer than ever in history. This new age births gods among men, and not all gods look kindly on old practices.”

Percival leaned back, letting the dreary lights of the moon stretch through the drawn blinds and cast sharp stripes over his polished boots.

Valens nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in, but the pattern was clear. The Church’s grip was weakening not through violence or direct rebellion, but through redundancy. They were no longer necessary in all the ways they once were. Healing, power, travel, knowledge—each of these dominions was being pulled into the hands of individuals and collectives who had no reason to bow before the Sun.

They still have people like the Bishop, though.

“But of course,” Percival muttered. “When it comes to matters of Shadow, we’re still the only ones who bother to extend a hand. The state may act powerful, but even they know they can’t do without the Church. That’s why, even in the Caligian Lands, the traces of the Divine Orders remain. Ultimately, this is why they were called down in the first place, to face the dark when no one else would.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Valens nodded grimly.

Silence lingered between them for a breath, then Percival leaned forward to straighten the stack of reports on his desk. “Well,” he said, tone lighter now. “That’s enough philosophy for the evening, don’t you think?”

Valens gave a faint smile. “Probably more than I bargained for.”

Percival chuckled. “Good. Means you’re learning.”

Valens stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape. “Thanks for the insight.”

“Anytime,” Percival said, already reaching for his pen. “Let me get you the other files I brought from the Cathedral. You have to learn about certain parties we often come across in our field. Secret societies, orders, and cults. Those will come in handy in the future, so best you start now.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Valens nodded, while inwardly he was rather curious to see those files.

I wonder if they have anything on the Midnight Assembly?

“You have to understand the reality of what we’re dealing with here on a daily basis,” Percival commented as he fetched another pile of stacks from his table. “Knowledge is the most efficient currency in this world.”

Vast amounts of hidden knowledge welcomed Valens inside those files, speaking about orders that tried—or were still trying—to unearth certain mysteries. There was the matter of groups trying to guide Haven’s Reach in a certain way by plucking strings invisible to most men.

It illuminated the crushing reality that while the Church might appear tall and mighty to a normal man’s gaze, it had, in fact, found itself surrounded by shrouded figures too slippery for them to grasp.

Valens could understand the reason for it. While the Sun’s Church represented the Blessed Father’s faith out in the open with its churches and Templars, shadowy organizations dealt in shadowy deals. This gave them the elements of surprise and initiative, which they often used in attempts like the recent robbery at the Warden’s Library.

That Library was something of a legend, too. The files said the Scribes of the Second Daughter kept the world's ancient knowledge there. They even mentioned that while the Sun’s Church seemed at a cursory glance to be a singular organization, it had different communities and schools of belief inside.

It doesn’t say anything about Zodros, though, so I can assume Celme’s group are safe… for now.

The daughters and sons of the Blessed Father had followers, even if they were all huddled under the umbrella that was the Sun’s Church. Meanwhile, in other countries, different Divine Orders, like the Waxen Sepulchre and the Church of the Immaculate Cog, were more active.

It seemed as though through an elaborate scheme, these churches shared parts of Haven’s Reach to spread their influence, with the Sun’s Church having taken the Melton Kingdom. But there were places like the Caligian Lands where they still vied for supremacy under the looming weight that was the Caligian Parliament itself.

The existence of adventurers, namely the Guilds established by people of influence, certainly was another facet of this complicated system. The files said that the cities in the Broken Lands were governed mainly by these guilds as city-states, which, while tied to some kingdoms in Haven’s Reach, mostly kept their autonomy from religious and state-related conflicts.

Percival was right. Broken Lands is like a completely different world. Life is almost normal in Haven’s Reach, except for the occasional Rifts, while in Broken Lands, it seems like they’re constantly fighting a bloody war.

It was then that Valens understood why people who managed to complete their First Trials and intended to continue the path to power decided to venture into the Broken Lands rather than stay here in the safe stretches of Haven’s Reach.

There were even separate name conventions for humans and dwellers for this particular reason. Pretrial was the common word for people who were either stuck at Level 100 or couldn’t even manage to reach their Trials, while Valens scoffed when he saw the name for people who crossed their First Trials.

The Proven? As in, they proved themselves by passing their First Trial? Isn’t it a bit too direct? It almost feels like they’re telling the Pretrial people that they aren’t worth a dime.

At least the other terms were milder, even if they had their problems. The Second Trial marked one as an Adept, while passing the Third Trial granted one the fancy name of an Exalt. Valens especially liked the Fourth Trial one since they used the word Crowned. It just so happened that people who governed the city-states in the Broken Lands were often the ones who managed to pass their Fourth Trials.

Seems like there are only a few of them.

The same terminology convention was used for the dwellers, but the ones who came up with their names were more direct in this case. It went like: Dweller, Ghoul, Fiend, Tyrant, and lastly for the Fourth Trial, Terror.

There were mentions of Dreads and Heralds too, but they were more seen as rare disasters that happened in the long history of the world, though Valens suspected he was being kept from that information as a lowly new member of the Church.

Still, it painted a rather grim but clearer picture in his mind. Terrors and beings above them couldn’t seep into Haven’s Reach due to the boundaries established by Resni’s Carving, which protected and gave humanity a chance to thrive in these dreary lands. So much so that some people took the fight to the Broken Lands, where they went against the dwellers as champions of the realm.

Valens wasn’t sure which route he would take in the future, but after spending some time in Belgrave, he had already begun to realize the implications of such a life. If he were to stay here after dealing with his Trial, then chances were he would become more of a scholar than a Mage who dealt with the practical side of things.

And while the culture here was equally fascinating, a part of him doubted whether the life of a scholar would give him the means with which he could unearth the truth behind the connected worlds.

That was the odd thing, to his thinking. Between all this information about secret orders, giant creatures, and men of distinguished statures, there was not a single mention of different worlds in the documents.

But then, even if there’s such a thing, I’m still a Pretrial Mage who can’t be trusted with sensitive information.

He needed more. More of anything.

Truly.

……

The moon was crimson around midnight as Valens strolled through the thick fog choking the streets of Belgrave, the wind whipping the tails of his coat. Everywhere around him, the street lamps flickered dimly.

More and more, he was spending time outside, leaving Selin alone during the evenings. Thankfully, Celme paid a visit now and then to keep her company, though she would be leaving for the Broken Lands tomorrow for her First Trial. She never mentioned the details of it, but then Valens found Trials were a delicate subject in Melton.

At least he knew Celme would be fighting a group of beasts, considering she was a Berserker. Likewise, Marcus would be facing something similar as a Warrior, likely more mild in his case.

Wish mine could be simple as well.

He shook his head. Acting the Healer amid the Templars was something he still struggled with, and after learning about the secret orders and cults scattered across Haven’s Reach, he was more than confident that keeping things a secret was a must.

At one point, he considered coming out as a Surgemaster to the Captain and others, but then, it’d been more than a thousand years since the Ancient Era, and he doubted whether it’d be the swords or the praises that welcomed him if he were to outright state he was an Ancient.

Swords, likely. And spears and arrows, too. Everybody speaks of the Ancient Era as an era of chaos, of blood and sacrifice. I don’t think they will appreciate the return of the ancients.

He sighed as he turned a corner. The street of his apartment was covered in a thick shroud of fog. The silence of the night was reflected in the Resonance, but the fog also quieted the frequencies.

Somebody has to do something about this fog.

Then, as always, he grasped the hem of his cap and tipped it to the guardian placed on his street. Tonight it was William’s turn, who turned out to be quite the talker once Valens decided to get to know his personal guardians rather than keeping the awkward air between them.

He saw him under the same pole, looking out into the bloody sky beyond.

“Hey, William,” Valens said, pausing a few steps away from him. “Shouldn’t you be keeping your eyes on the street? What’s so special about the blood moon that you can’t tear your eyes away?”

When Valens didn’t get an answer in return, he walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m talking to you—”

“Ah!” William yelped, then turned with his hand reaching to the dagger gleaming underneath his coat. Slowly, realization dawned in his eyes as he paused at the sight of Valens. “Oh? Valens, when did you get here?”

“Just now,” Valens said, frowning at him. “I called out to you. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Called out to me?” William said, looking puzzled. “Guess my mind was somewhere else.”

“Anything I should know?” Valens eyed the man.

William shrugged. “Same old, as usual. Nothing but this damn fog here. Go ahead, Selin should be up there waiting.”

“Good,” Valens said with a nod. “Take care of yourself. There’s something different about this night. It’s chilling.”

“Same old. Same old,” William muttered, then waved at him. “I’ll be fine.”

Valens left the man under the pole and went to the apartment. Before he got inside, he glanced over his shoulder to William one last time.

The man was still staring at the blood moon.

......